since He knit you together
soul and bone
through space and time
He winds His silver thread
for you to feel along
with heart and head
Allow no clamor to undo you
or hasty hoary hand to misconstrue you
Remember the first kisses of your
and rush to meet your Maker
along the way.
This sweet little snippet was found floating around on our office desk, written several years ago on the back of an index card; I preserve it here with love. It is possibly written with our little G in mind, I'll have to confirm it with the poet.
The picture, by the incomparable illustrator Jessie Wilcox Smith, is from the 1920 edition of 'Princess and the Goblin' by George MacDonald. Note the thin sliver of thread that the princess Irene is holding; one of the finest metaphors of faith that I have found. The thread stretches from her ring to her great great grandmother, who sits at the top of Irene's rambling castle home; Irene has to follow the thread where ever it leads her, no matter how roundabout, in order to find her way out of the goblin's cave, and then-but wait, you really should read it yourself. And then you can read 'The Princess and Curdie', and come over for tea and a wee blether. If you need a refresher course on George MacDonald, here is a post from yesteryear to get you started.
Did You Mean Obtuse?
As I did a Google search for this image, I misspelled 'goblin' and was asked, "Did you mean princess and the globulin?"